Facing It Alone
by Beitris
Summary: Misha's an American witch just trying to find her way at Hogwarts. Can she escape her past and protect her future?
1. Chapter 1

She stepped onto the smoky platform, her battered suitcase in hand. She surveyed the bustling station. Looking up, she saw the two station numbers, mocking her. Nine, and then, right next to it, ten; separated by a short brick wall.

"Now you, dear, go in."

Misha swiveled her head, taking in the sight of a pack of redheads. The smallest, a young girl, was looking slightly nervous, pushed her cart towards the brick wall. Misha was just about to call out a warning, when suddenly, the girl disappeared. She watched as each of the redheaded family followed suit, until only the plump woman and a tall, skinny boy were remaining. The boy was very obviously not part of the family, his hair was jet black. Misha, knowing that these people must be wizards; they were disappearing into walls for heavens sake, strode up to the pair.

"Are you headed for Hogwarts?" she asked the boy. His head jerked up.

"Yes," he said slowly. "And you are?" He held out his hand, and Misha shook it.

"I'm Misha. I'm here as an exchange student. I'm from Maiestas, it's in Iowa." She replied. "Is that how you get on the train?" she asked, jerking her thumb at the innocent looking brick wall. The boy nodded.

"Is that a magic school? The one you mentioned?" he asked. Misha nodded, barely listening. She picked her suitcase up from where she had set it at her feet. She started walking towards the brick wall. She heard the boy say goodbye to the dumpy woman, and catch up with her.

"I'm Harry." He said earnestly. "Harry Potter."

The name sparked a memory in Misha's mind; she had heard the name a hundred times before. She didn't let her surprise register on her face, however. She walked through the barrier without responding. As Harry tumbled in after her, she said: "I'm in fifth year. Yourself?"

"Same." He told her, grinning. His smile was charming, and Misha felt the first rumble of attraction deep in her belly. "Will you sit in my compartment?" he asked, helping her shove her suitcase in the luggage carriers that ran along the train's ceilings. Misha smiled.

"Sure, why not?"

The compartment was nearly empty when Harry and Misha arrived. Only a small redheaded girl sat in the corner, flicking through a magazine. "Hullo Harry," she said, not looking up.

"Ginny, hi." Harry said, slipping down onto the empty seat. Misha sat down beside him. Ginny looked up, a question on her face. "This is Misha. She's from America."

Ginny raised her eyebrows and waved her silent greeting. Misha grinned. "Actually, no." she corrected Harry. He looked up at her, puzzled. "I go to school in America. I'm a pure-bred Canadian."

Ginny nodded her head absently; Misha could tell she didn't care. Harry was listening though, and he sent rapid-fire questions her way.

"So, what are you?" He asked, after she had told him all her favorite things, her best subjects, and a bit about her history. "Pure blood? Muggle born?"

Misha narrowed her eyes, her expression going cold. She sniffed back a sarcastic retort. Instead, she stood up. "And here I thought that the famous Harry Potter wouldn't give a damn about blood."

She was just about to swirl out when two more people entered the compartment. "Harry!" they said at once, then looked at Misha, puzzled.

Harry ignored them; instead he tugged at Misha's elbow. "Hey, come back." He whispered, his mouth deliciously close to her ear. Misha pulled herself away, spinning to face him, her eyes defiant. Hermione and Ron watched, looking to Ginny for an explanation. She gave them none, rolling her eyes instead. "I didn't mean it like that," Harry said quietly. "I was just wondering."

Misha stared at him, her eyes unfathomable, for a full minute before she nodded stiffly, sitting back down, across from Hermione and Ron. "To answer your question," she said, after a few awkward moments. "I've got no idea. My parents aren't my birth parents." Harry made a sympathetic noise, before introducing Misha to Ron and Hermione.

"So, Misha, are you going to be here for the full year?" Hermione asked. "Or is it just for a month? I've no idea how any of the other wizarding schools work, it sounds fascinating!" Misha grinned at Hermione's exuberance.

"I'll be here all year, and if I'm a good little girl, I get to come back next year also." Misha replied. She had pulled her wand from her pocket and was playing absently. She flicked it silently, giggling to herself as she made the compartment door slide open and close.

"You can do non-verbals?" Hermione asked, astounded and more then a tad jealous. "We don't start learning those until sixth year, I think!"

"Yea, same for us, but I usually spend my summers trying out new spells." Misha replied, bored with her wand now. She pulled her long dark hair into a high ponytail, exposing a long scar on her neck. Hermione stifled a gasp and Ron choked on the jelly bean he was eating. The scar ran across her throat, as if it had been slit, and was dark and ugly. Harry was amazed that he hadn't spotted it before. Misha made no move to explain, instead opening the magazine the Ginny had discarded. When Ron opened his mouth to ask, Hermione kicked him in the shin and he stifled his yelp of pain.

Harry, however, was entranced. Here was a girl, an American, no less, who had a similar history to his, and seemed unimpressed by Harry's fame. Misha yawned suddenly, smiling in embarrassment at her jaw snapped shut. "It's been a long day," she explained. "I've only just got off the plane." She curled herself into the corner, her head resting on the window, and fell asleep quickly.

As soon as she was sure the other girl was asleep, Hermione caught Harry's attention. "Where do you think she got a scar like that?" she hissed. Harry shrugged.

"I dunno," Ron put in. He looked a tad dejected. "But it looks recent, it's all red."

Hermione nodded, thinking intensely. Harry was wondering a few things as well. "I wonder if she'll be sorted?' he mused. "I hope she gets Gryffindor."

"Of course you do," Ginny said scathingly, just entering the conversation. "You've been falling all over her ever since you walked in here. It's not like she's Veela!"

"Maybe she is?" Ron suggested while Harry stared indignantly at Ginny. What had gotten into her?

"Don't be stupid, Ron." Ginny snapped. "Look at her. I ain't never seen a Veela with brown hair."

Ron still looked unsure, until Hermione added: "Plus, she's nothing like Fleur, so…"

Ron's eyes glazed over at the mention of the French Veela. Like every boy at Hogwarts, Ron nursed a small soft spot for the attractive TriWizard contestant.

"Point is," Harry said. "I was wondering what house she'll be in, or if they'll even sort her at all. Do they even have houses in…" he struggled to remember the name of Misha's school.

"Maiestas!" Hermione piped up. "It's the only wizarding school in the Americas! They've published a book on it, I've never gotten around to reading it. I think it's _Memoirs of Maiestas_. I should pick it up, now that we've got an exchange student."

"That's great." Ron said absently. "She'd have to pretty smart though, to be an exchange student. She's probably in Ravenclaw."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "Good point," she conceded, and Ron turned pink.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ten Sickles says she's a Hufflepuff."

* * *

Misha sat, curled up, listening to the four friends discuss her. She could tell that the Ginny girl did not like her one bit, and Hermione was too nosy for her own good. Ron was a decent sort, obviously enamored with Hermione, though they did not seem to be dating. Unrequited love then. Amusing. Harry, however, was just as she had predicted. Brave, if a bit rash, thinking more with his heart than anything else. She almost pitied him. 

But thinking of Harry Potter led her to thinking of Maiestas, and that, she didn't want to do. The school was in ruins, it was taking thousands of wizards to put it right. And Misha? She was deported, sent to the nearest wizarding school, where her identity would be kept secret. There would be plenty of dark wizards looking to getting their hands on a power like Misha, and her adoptive parents had been eager to send her to the safest school in the world.

What nobody understood, Misha thought angrily, was that it wasn't her fault! It had been an accident, and now every wizard in North America blamed her for ruining their pride and joy! Misha wished she could make it so it had never happened, but that was impossible.

Misha was jolted from her sleepy contemplation by a new arrival to the compartment. She opened her eyes a crack and focused on a pale, blonde haired boy, flanked by two beefy boys. The pale boy's cold eyes swept over the room, stopping at Misha. She shut her eyes quickly. "What's this?" he heard him sneer, and she felt a great dislike for him rise in her belly. "Taking in strays now, Potter? Got a thing for Mudbloods, eh?"

Misha leapt to her feet before anyone else in the train could react. The blazing fury in her eyes startled Malfoy, and he back up a step. Misha had already whipped out her wand, and sparks were flying from the tip. She was breathing hard and she drew a large breath before screaming the curse. "_Eternus vereor!_" Hermione gasped as Malfoy went flying, crashing into the wall of the compartment. He was still conscious when Goyle and Crabbe picked him up, but he was gibbering incoherently.

"You're a Malfoy," Misha spat at him as she blocked his path out of the compartment. "I could smell the hate on you." She moved away, letting Goyle drag Malfoy away. It took a while for Misha to calm down, she sat, staring out the window, her face a mask of anger. Finally, when she sighed and pocketed the wand she'd been fidgeting with, Hermione burst out.

"_That_ was a fear spell!" she accused, her eyes shining. Misha shrugged.

"He deserved it." She replied simply.

"That's not the point! They don't even teach those at Hogwarts! I've never met anyone who can do them!" Hermione look indignant that someone knew more about something than her. "Could you teach me?" she asked finally, and Misha grinned.

"Sure, but not now. We've gotta change into to school uniforms. I can see the castle in the distance. That _is_ Hogwarts, right?"

Harry looked, and nodded. "Yea, we'll go change." He agreed.

Misha watched as they all left the compartment, going where ever they wished. She waved her wand at herself once she thought they had left, changing her clothes easily. She watched as Hogwarts sped closer and closer.

A new beginning. Could she trust herself not to mess it all up?

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Hogwarts was roughly the same size of Maiestas, but Misha still found herself impressed by the immense castle. The weather was fair when they stepped off the train, with only a faint chill in the air.

"Where do we go now?" Misha asked Hermione, trying not to let her uncertainty show. Hermione beamed and pointed to the top of the stone stairs, where large double doors were swinging open. A thin, imposing woman stood waiting.

"That's Professor McGonagall. She's in charge of first year sorting so I expect you'll be with her." Hermione said. "They take our bags to our room, so you need to be sorted before anything else." Hermione squinted. "I think she's waving at you!" She turned round and hugged Misha suddenly. "Good luck!" she said, before dashing off.

Misha shook her head ruefully before walking up the stone steps quickly. She found that standing next to Professor McGonagall, even Misha was considered short. "My name's Misha Chayton. I don't know if you were told of me coming, but I'm an exchange…"

She trailed off when a look of comprehension dawned on the Professor's face. Misha's heart beat faster. _She knows_, she thought urgently. _How could she know? _"Yes, Ms. Chayton. I head you were coming. If you would please stand with these first years. You're to be sorted as well." Misha nodded, her throat tight. Would McGonagall give her away? Would these teachers hate her as well?

The first years had been filed alphabetically, and with little trouble, Misha found her place in line. She felt overly tall once again, she couldn't be sure that any of the surrounding children cleared five feet. At Professor McGonagall's order, the first years plus Misha filed into the Great Hall, where they found themselves standing in front of the whole school, who were watching intently.

The first boy was called, and Misha was sure he was going to pee his pants. He was sorted into Gryffindor, and the far left table cheered enthusiastically. Misha watched the second girl. She was a small blonde thing, a slip of a girl. She walked nervously up to the Hat, which sat on a tall stool, and put in on her head gingerly. The Hat took a few moments to think, then bellowed out 'Hufflepuff!'

A few more students were sorted until it was finally Misha's turn. She scanned the crowd, finding the faces of her new friends. Harry waved at her, and she smiled back, walking up to the Sorting Hat quickly. She grabbed the ratty thing, and put it o her head. Instantly, a mumbling voice filled her brain.

'_Bit old to be sorted are ye not?'_ the voice asked, but Misha didn't feel the need to answer. _'Ye got brains, I can see that, but you've also got a wild love of destruction…'_ the Hat mused for several tense seconds.

'_I don't know that you truly belong here'_ he said finally.

"Please," Misha said quietly. "You can see what I did, can't you?" The Hat made a noise of assent. "Then you know I didn't mean it! Please, I've got no other place to go. Just sort me please, Hat."

'_Then it will need to be:'_ "RAVENCLAW!"

Misha sighed in relief. The Hat had sorted her. Everything would be okay now. She walked towards the cheering table and sat down into an empty spot next to a strange blonde girl who was quite obviously not paying attention to the sorting. "Hey," Misha said quietly. The girl turned her head, her blue eyes glazed.

"Oh…hello. Have you been there long?" The girl replied. Misha shook her head. "Oh, good. I'm Luna."

"My name is Misha. I'm from America."

"How nice for you," Luna replied, turning back to her magazine. Misha frowned. Had she done something wrong to make this girl so rude?

"Don't worry about her." The girl on Misha's other side had leaned over. "That's just Loony Lovegood. She gets a bit…distracted. I don't think she means anything by it." She held out her hand. "I'm Sara Fawcett. I couldn't help overhearing that you're a transfer student. What's that like?" She asked eagerly.

Misha smiled, amused by this fast-talking girl. She shook the girl's hand. "I'm Misha. I'm from an American school. I'm here for the year."

"The sorting's over." Sarah pointed out. "I think we're about to eat. Oh damn, Dumbledore's got a speech." Sarah was craned her neck to see the headmaster. "I hope it's not too long," she moaned quietly. "I'm hungry!"

Misha moved to get a better look at the famed Headmaster. This was the man who was to keep her power hidden from the world? He was so…old.

"Welcome back students of old, and welcome to the newer students!" Dumbledore said happily. "I'm pleased to tell you that over the summer, we gained another fifth year student. I hope you can all work to make her feel welcome here." He sat down, and food appeared on all the table's plates. Misha felt a new passionate dislike for the old man at the high table. Had he needed to point her out the way he had?

She poked at the meat on her plate, tasting and hating the pumpkin juice that Sarah poured her. "You're in fifth year then?" Sarah asked her. Misha nodded. "Well, you'll probably be in the sixth year dorm anyway; we've got an extra space."

"That's good."

Soon, the feast was over, and everyone was standing, preparing to file out of the hall. Misha tapped on Sarah's shoulder. "I'll be right back." She told the other girl, dashing over to the Gryffindor line. "Harry!" she called through the sea of people. She watched his jet black hair whip around and his grin when he spotted her. She trotted over and smiled. "So, is Ravenclaw a good house?" she asked him.

"It's better than Slytherin." He admitted. "I had you down for Gryffindor after what you did to Malfoy."

"That wasn't bravery." Misha said seriously. Harry looked her grave face and frowned. "I lost my temper and took advantage of a wizard who didn't know as much as me. That's just a good as cowardice."

Harry started to say something, but Misha was distracted by a call from Sarah. "I have to go Harry. I'll see you at breakfast. Show me your timetable then, alright?"

Misha walked off, leaving Harry very puzzled. He could not fathom what she had just meant.

"Oi, Harry!" Harry turned to see Fred and George loping towards him. "New conquest?" Fred asked when they reached him. Harry grinned but shook his head.

"I couldn't help but eavesdrop on what she said, man." George added. "My advice, steer clear. There are some heavy things associated with that girl."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, bristling.

"Harry, I'm not saying she's a bad person, but an excellent source of mine says that the American Wizarding community had a hell of a time keeping her out of the Muggle newspapers last year."

"Who's that source?" Harry asked suspiciously. He did not want to be pulled along on of Fred and George's pranks.

"McGonagall." Fred answered.

"What? She said this to you?" Harry seriously doubted this tale now.

"Of course not," said George. "I overheard her talking to Flitwick about it. That girl's causing a storm of trouble at Maiestas."

Harry turned to look at Misha, who was starting the long trek up the stairs to the Ravenclaw Tower and frowned. She looked so harmless. What could one girl do that would send the Americans into frenzy?


	3. Chapter 3

Her Ravenclaw dormitory was not too different from her room back at Maiestas. It was larger, with only four girls in it, instead of six. Misha relished the room. She found her trunk at the end of the bed farthest from the door. Looking around at the empty room first, Misha flicked the lid open. A small cat jumped out, looking indignant.

"Oh, Isaak, I know. I'm sorry." Misha said, scooping up the animal. He was a brown tabby cat, with large white patches on his left side. He mewed impatiently, eager to look around his new home. "Don't be like that," Misha scolded mildly. "You know it was for your own good."

She set the cat down and went back to her trunk. She pulled out a pile of newspapers, laying them out on her bed. Checking the dates of each issue, she put the papers in order. The first was over a year old, with the fifth and last one being only a couple days old. They were a mixture of Muggle newspapers and Wizard newspapers. The _Spencer Chronicles_, with its black and white photographs featured a pile of rubble, with the headline "_Mysterious Explosion Destroys Private School_."

Misha sighed. Why was she even looking at these damn things? Why had she even brought them? All they did was depress her. Hearing footsteps, she shooed Isaak under her bed, and threw the newspapers back into the trunk, snapping the lid shut as a gaggle of girls arrived. They stopped upon seeing her.

"Oh." One girl said. "You that transfer?" she asked. Misha nodded. The girls shrugged and went back to their conversation, ignoring Misha completely, which suited her fine. She barely listened as she got ready for bed. She was exhausted; her day had been a rollercoaster. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She pulled the curtain around her bed closed and climbed under her covers. Quickly she fell into a dreamless sleep, the weight of her world slipping off her shoulders.

Across the school, three students sat in the Gryffindor common room, watching their housemates drift off to their dormitories. They sat around the fireplace, quietly waiting until they were alone. As the last pair of feet padded up the stairs, Hermione launched a question at Harry.

"Well?" she demanded, her voice a fierce hiss. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"What?" he asked.

"What has you so spooked? You came in here looking like you'd seen a ghost!" Hermione said she looked at Ron, who agreed readily. Harry was unsure that Ron actually agreed, and was more focused on pleasing Hermione.

"Nothing." Harry responded. "Just George and Fred, and their stupid jokes." Ron accepted this readily, he had spent his life as the target of Fred and George's pranks. Hermione, however, was not so accepting.

"Is this to do with that new girl from America?" she asked, her voice coaxing.

"What about her?" Harry said, his voice sounding casual. Inside, his heart was beating fast. He knew that Hermione would latch onto any information he gave her, and not rest until she found the truth.

"Well, I picked up a copy of _Memoirs of Maiestas_, and I've been looking through it." Hermione began, only to be interrupted.

"When did you have time to do that?" Ron demanded. Hermione shrugged.

"I asked McGonagall if she had a copy. She summoned it from her office and told me not to damage it. Easy." Ron looked at her, open-mouthed. Hermione frowned. "It's perfectly logical to think that all the teachers who will come in contact with Misha will read the book. It's quite fascinating, really, but I've only read the first chapter."

She pointed to a picture just inside the book. It was of a castle, not unlike Hogwarts. It was fatter and shorter that Hogwarts, with many out buildings and a dense forest protecting it's back. "That's Maiestas." Hermione told him. Harry rolled his eyes. He could've guessed that. "It says it was built in 1436, before there were any Muggle settlers at all! Wizards from all over the world went to the New World, built the school, and then left, leaving it dormant for near 300 years. Then, in 1721, a man named Benald McBride opened it up again, he died soon after. The students were brought in from around the New World, even the Native wizards were brought in, which was unusual, at the time."

Harry said nothing, then Ron blurted out. "Hermione, that's great, but what's it have to do with Misha?"

"Absolutely nothing. But this is all about the place she came from. We can learn a lot about her from this."

"Yea, but why?" Ron asked again.

"Well…it's just important." Hermione sniffed pointedly. "I've just got a feeling about this girl."

"A bad feeling?" Harry asked, feeling apprehensive.

Hermione shook her head. "Just a feeling."

Harry said nothing in response. "Can I borrow that?" he asked instead, pointing at the book. Hermione giggled in a way most unlike her.

"If you're going to try to impress her with your knowledge, Harry, try to talk to her about Hogwarts. You've got a way better chance of not saying something silly." Harry frowned at her.

"That's not what I was planning," he said grumpily. Ron chortled.

"Yea, sure."

Harry sulked quietly while Hermione and Ron continued the conversation. He spaced out, not participating. He thought of the next day. Classes would begin tomorrow, as usual. Fifth year was important. OWL year, it was second only to the NEWT year. Hermione had already made a chart of ways she would study. Harry was just hoping to pass. He wondered if Gryffindor would have to take any classes with the Slytherins. Or maybe, the Ravenclaws?

He didn't notice when Ron and Hermione stopped talking to look strangely at him. "Harry!"

Harry's head jerked up. "What?"

"It's near midnight. Hermione's going to bed. I am too. Are you coming?" Ron spoke slowly, as if Harry were a damaged child.

"Yea." Harry responded, grabbing Hermione's book and following Ron up the stair.

i

Sleep did not come easily. After an hour of tossing, Harry pulled out his wand and whispered "_Lumos_!" The space around him lit up instantly and he groped at his bedside table for his glasses. He shoved them onto his face, before retrieving Hermione's book. He flipped the front cover open, where Professor McGonagall had neatly penned her name. He scanned the table of contents, looking for something interesting.

'_Modern Maiestas_………._34_'. That looked appealing. Harry flipped to the page and scanned it.

'_In modern times, Maiestas has been subject of much bad press, mostly for the subjects being taught. A heavy emphasis on magics with dark undertones. America's most notable Dark Wizards credit their 'successes' to the things that they learned at school.'_

Harry frowned. Misha came from a school known for its dark magic? Was it like an American Durmstrang? He looked back down to the book.

'_The school was not always this way. Founded in 1400s by three prominent wizards, Maiestas was a beacon of hope for wizards looking for a new life in the later centuries. The first official Headmaster, __Andrei__Dalca, was a prominent Romanian wizarding official before his surprising emigration. After this, he worked tirelessly to make Maiestas the only choice for wizards in North America. This squashed the several small schools that had started to form, with questionable intentions. To this day, Maiestas is the only choice for American wizards. They are permitted to attend schools abroad, but must fill out an expensive application.'_

Harry snapped the book shut. If Misha had been so eager to come to Hogwarts, why hadn't she applied when she was first informed of her status as a witch? There was no reason for her to transfer now, truly, it was absurd. Harry sighed, putting the book down. He had no idea why he was dwelling on this girl. He already had his eyes set on somebody. He thought of Cho, but with that came the guilty pain he associated with Cedric. He truly wished that he could like Cho without feeling horrible about Cedric.

He threw his glasses back onto his bedside table and put his wand away. He pulled his covers over his head and shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He finally relaxed, letting himself fall into a dream filled sleep.

_A flash of green light, this dream was going to turn out like the others. He was going to be forced to listen to his parents die, again and again._

"_You think I don't know?" A new voice, one he didn't recognize, with a heavy accent. It was male, and very deep. Harry felt the first stirring of curiosity in his subconscious. This was not the ways his dreams ever went._

"_I didn't mean it…I swear…I swear…" a soft voice sobbed, also speaking with a strange accent. _

"_You killed him! You killed my boy! Meddlesome bitch! I'll kill you! I'll kill you for what you did!" the man yelled._

_Another flash of green light, and a scream from the girl._

"_You can't dodge me forever!" the man whispered. Harry felt as if his was standing right next to the man, but a heavy black curtain separated them. He could see nothing; only hear the fearful snuffling of the girl. He wanted to help her, but couldn't push through the curtain._

"_Come out, come out, my pretty little bitch!" The man laughed, his voice taking on a manic edge. The girl's snuffling stopped. Everything was silent. "Ah…there you are. Now be a good girl and let me kill you properly…" _

_He paused, taking a breath. _

"_Ava-"_

"_You want death?" the girl cried, startling the man. Her voice had also changed, taking on a clearer, more piercing tone. "I'll give you death!"_

_An incantation was screamed, something vaguely Latin, causing an explosion. Harry, felt the ground rock, and the curtain separating him from his dream dissolved. He was in a large room, not unlike the Great Hall, but it was completely deserted. He was watching columns topple and the ceiling fall in. He could see the girl, she was half buried. He jogged over to her, seeing only her dark hair, it covered her face. _

_He tried to touch her, but his hands passed right through her. He cried out, trying to wake the girl, she would die if this building fell down around her. Suddenly, a whooshing noise made Harry look up. He recognized the sound. Broomsticks._

_Wizards flew in the door to this foreign looking great hall, yelling instructions in a language Harry didn't understand. They were clearly searching for something, Harry assumed it was the girl. Harry watched as one wizard cried in triumph, dodging a falling brick. He pointed at the girl before flying down to her. The four other men followed him, pulling the debris way from their target. One man scooped up the girl, before getting back on his broomstick and leading the way out of the disintegrating building. As he flew, the girl's hair was blown away from her face, and Harry caught a glimpse of her high cheekbones and dark lips. _

_Misha._


End file.
